“I am not sure who you are, Mma,” he began. “I think I have met you, but I am sorry, I am not sure.”

“I am Precious Ramotswe,” she said. “I am the owner of the No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency. You may have heard of us.”

Mr. Selelipeng looked surprised. “I have heard of your agency,” he said. “There was an interview in the newspaper the other day.”

Mma Ramotswe bit her lip. “That was not us, Rra. That was another business. Nothing to do with us.” She made an effort to keep the irritation out of her voice, but she was afraid that it showed, as Mr. Selelipeng seemed to become tense as she spoke.

“The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency,” went on Mma Ramotswe, “is run by two women. There is me-I am the manager-and there is a lady who works for me as assistant detective. She is a person who came from the Botswana Secretarial College and is now working for me. I think you know her.”

Mr. Selelipeng said nothing.

“She is called Mma Makutsi,” said Mma Ramotswe. “That is the name of this lady.”

Mr. Selelipeng did not lower his eyes, but Mma Ramotswe noticed that he was no longer smiling. She noticed how he was drumming the fingers of his right hand on the arm of his chair. His other hand lay on his lap but was slightly clenched, she saw.

Mma Ramotswe took a deep breath. “I know that you are seeing this lady, Rra. She has spoken of you.”

Still Mr. Selelipeng said nothing.

“She was very happy when you invited her out,” she continued. “I could tell from the way that she was behaving that something good was happening in her life. And then she mentioned your name. She said-”

Suddenly Mr. Selelipeng interrupted. “So,” he said, his voice raised. “So what has this got to do with you, Mma? I don’t like to be rude, but is this any of your business? You are her boss, but you do not own her life, do you?”

Mma Ramotswe sighed. “I can understand how you feel, Rra. I can imagine that you think I am a busybody woman who is trying to put her nose into matters that do not concern her.”

“Well?” said Mr. Selelipeng. “There, you have said it yourself. You yourself have said that it is only a busybody who talks about these things, like some old woman in a village, watching, watching.”

“I am only doing what I have to do, Rra,” said Mma Ramotswe defensively.

“Hah! Why do you have to do this? Why do you have to come and talk to me about this private matter? You tell me that.”

“Because your wife asked me to,” said Mma Ramotswe quietly. “That is why.”

Her words had the effect that she had thought they would. Mr. Selelipeng opened his mouth, and then he closed it. He swallowed. Then he opened his mouth again, and Mma Ramotswe saw that he had a gold cap on a tooth slightly to the right side. His mouth closed.

“You are worried, Rra? Did you not tell Mma Makutsi that you were a married man?”

Mr. Selelipeng now seemed crumpled. He had moved back slightly in his chair, and his shoulders had slumped.

“I was going to tell her,” he said lamely. “I was going to tell her, but I had not got round to it yet. I am very sorry.”

Mma Ramotswe looked into his eyes and saw the lie. This did not surprise her; indeed, Mr. Selelipeng had behaved true to form and had not caused her to rethink her strategy in any way. It would have been different, of course, if he had laughed when she mentioned his wife, but he had not done that. This was not a man who was going to leave his wife; that was very apparent.

She now had the advantage. “So, Mr. Selelipeng, what do you think we should do about this? Your wife has instructed me to report on your activities. I have a professional duty to her. I also have to think about the interests of my employee, Mma Makutsi. I do not want her to be hurt… by a man who has no intention of staying with her.”

At this, Mr. Selelipeng made an attempt to glower at her, but she met his gaze and held it, and he wilted.

“Please do not tell my wife about this, Mma,” he said, his voice thin and pleading. “I am sorry that I have inconvenienced Mma Makutsi. I do not want to hurt her.”

“Perhaps you should have thought about that earlier, Rra. Perhaps you should have…” She stopped herself. She was a kind woman, and the sight of this man, so wretched and fearful, made it difficult for her to say anything to exacerbate his discomfort. I could never be a judge, she thought; I could not sit there and punish people after they have begun to feel sorry for what they have done.

“We could try to sort this out,” she said. “We could try to make sure that Mma Makutsi is not too badly upset. In particular, Rra, I do not want her to think that she has been thrown over… thrown over by somebody who no longer loves her. And I do not want her to find out that she has been seeing a married man. That would make her feel bad about herself, which is what I definitely do not want to happen. Do you understand me?”

Mr. Selelipeng nodded eagerly. “I will do what you tell me to do, Mma.”

“I thought, Rra, that it might be better if you were to move back to Mochudi for a while. You could tell Mma Makutsi that you have to go away and that you are not giving her up because you do not love her. Then you must tell her that you do not think that you are worthy of her, even if you are still in love with her. Then you will buy her a very fine present and some flowers. You will know what to do. But you must make sure that she is not being thrown away. That would be very bad, and I would find it difficult then not to talk to your wife about all this. Do you understand me?”

“I understand you very well,” said Mr. Selelipeng. “You can be sure that I will try to make it easy for her.”

“That is what you must do, Rra.”

She rose to her feet, preparing to leave.

“And another thing, Rra,” she said. “I would like you to remember that in the future these things may not work out quite so easily for you. Bear that in mind.”

“There is not going to be a next time,” said Mr. Bernard Selelipeng.

BUT AS she made her way back to the tiny white van, he was watching from his window, and he thought: I have no happiness now. I am just a man who provides for that woman and her children. She does not love me, but she will not let me find somebody who does love me. And I am too much of a coward to walk away and tell her that I have my own life, which will soon be gone anyway, because I am getting older. And now I no longer have that lady, who was so good to me. One day I will put a stop to all this. One day.

And Mma Ramotswe, glancing up, saw him at his window before he retreated, and she thought: Poor man! It could have been different for him, if he had not lied to Mma Makutsi. Why is it that there are always these problems and misunderstandings between men and women? Surely it would have been better if God had made only one sort of person, and the children had come by some other means, with the rain, perhaps.

She thought about this as she started the van and began to drive away. But if there were only one sort of person, would this person be more like a man than a woman? The answer was obvious, thought Mma Ramotswe. One hardly even had to think about it.